Thought
Shaped at potter’s wheel are we
Hand crafted for identity
Laid out to dry and sun to bake
Trampled ones will surely break
Pieces lying cracked and brittle
Potter signs off their dismissal
But softer clay that lost its form
Can be remoulded and reborn
Who are you? Ask the clay
Reborn again and here today
It answers proudly “I am pot”
But shifting form shows it’s not
If truth be known then it must say
I am forever substance clay
Prayer
O Lord I am happy to be lovingly moulded by you, discarded or used, free or newly shaped as long as it is at your hands; but in meditation depths I feel oneness. You guided me to this through every adventure. Now I offer surging tears of joy and thankfulness.
Comments